Page 29 of Seth’s Doll

Something I’ve never even dreamed of doing to the woman on my lap. I’ve never once had the heart to do anything but encourage and praise her, believing any sort of humiliation would traumatize this angelic and sweet-natured creature perched atop my thighs. And before, maybe it would have. But there’s no rule that states you can’t grow out of a role you once believed you’d be in forever.

Hell, look at me. I thought I’d be a sadistic fuck for the rest of my life, only to give up every ounce of pleasure I derived from pain the moment I met her. And now, I’m evolving once again to be the Dom my sub needs.

So there’s nothing to say she can’t suddenly discover being degraded arouses her. But I know this woman to the depths of my soul, and I know damn well that while she might find enjoyment from being torn down a bit, it’s with anticipation of the building-back-up that might come after. While some subs are masochists who have no want or need for praise after being humiliated, mine is not one of them.

I test my hypothesis.

Leaning forward to speak softly right at her ear, I ask, “What’s a dirty little slut toy need all those smarts for, hmmm?” I hear her swallow thickly. “Shouldn’t take much of a brain just to open up and suck my cock like a good little whore, right?”

I can feel her start to tremble where the backs of her thighs press along the tops of mine. Slipping the card behind my back in the seat, both hands now free, I wrap one arm around her hips and reach between her legs with the other. With skilled fingers, I move the gusset of her lace thong aside and trace along her slit, finding exactly what I expected.

“Didn’t even have to put you in Test Mode, doll. You’re already soaked for me like the perfect little companion I know you are.” I thrust one finger up inside her, and she does a damn good job trying to control her breathing, even though the praise makes more slickness seep over my knuckles.

Hypothesis: Confirmed.

Pulling my finger from her hot depths, I use another to move her panties back in place, then lift my hand up between us. I start to open my mouth to suck off her sweetness like I always do, but I try something new instead.

My eyes follow my fingertip as I trace her slightly parted lips, her wetness making it easy as I drag it past the corner, smearing that red lipstick I’ve been dying to make imperfect since I spotted it on her pretty mouth.

With my hand now cupping her jaw, I order, “All right, dolly. Lick your lips.”

When her eyes languidly close and open once more, I refuse the groan that wants to escape me as I watch her sweet little tongue poke out the unsmeared corner of her mouth before making a slow circle around her plump lips, disappearing once she reaches the place it first emerged. And since her eyes never veered from their blank stare past me, the entire act feels surreal, like I’ve been transported to one of the fictional universes portrayed in A.I. Artificial Intelligence, The Stepford Wives, Blade Runner, Westworld, or an episode of Black Mirror, and she really is a sex doll come to life.

“Good. Fucking. Girl,” I purr against her ear, letting go of her face to grab the card behind me and lean back in the seat to finish reading it. I force myself to concentrate on the words instead of observing her to pick out telltale reactions to the praise I already know she loves.

“Yaddah, yaddah… patterns in those commands—ah. Here we are. In order to activate Test Mode Two, press the blue button on my remote control. I’ll then be able to respond to questions when you place your hand on me, but only with the following phrases: ‘Yes, Master.’ ’No, Master.’ ‘Green, Master.’ ‘Yellow, Master.’ And ‘Red, Master.’ Once Test Mode Two has been initiated, if my auto-lubrication system has not released enough lube into Pleasure Sleeve 2, aka ‘my pussy,’ it is up to the user to fix the issue. Manual stimulation will be required in order for the desired amount of wetness to express from the refillable internal storage tank before usage. Using any of my three pleasure sleeves without adequate lubrication will likely result in damage to the sleeve. Remember, no refunds. Replacements may be purchased by calling the number on my box.”

My hand holding the card drops to my lap between us as my head falls back to the leather behind me, my body shaking with silent laughter. Eventually, I lift the other to try to forcefully wipe my grin off my face as I let out a howling sigh, sitting up once again to reach for the remote on the tray table.

“Blue button. Here goes nothin’,” I quip, and I press the one beneath the pink one that brought me more delight than I ever could’ve expected in a single night, and it had only been a warm-up.

A red spotlight turns on from somewhere in the rafters above us, shining a sexy hue across the padded play table to my left. My doll’s hands lift to my shoulders, using me to balance as she maneuvers off my lap to stand between my thighs in nothing but her thong, thigh-high socks, and heels.

Another song fills the playroom, and it makes me wonder if she’s chosen it as a test of her own. Because surely she picked “WAP” by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion, a title that literally stands for “wet-ass pussy”—and played it while I’m supposed to check to make sure she’s got a wet-ass pussy—to make me laugh, which I definitely am. And combined with all the clever index cards, it’s like she did all of it on purpose to see if she could get the darker side of her Dom she requested and the lighthearted nature of her husband to coexist, not just in the same body but at the same time.

Maybe that’s exactly what she wants from me. The degradation and the praise. The dark and filthy and the playful. The hot and cold side by side instead of one or the other.

The idea is exciting, something I’ve never consciously considered. It’s always been my deviant side or my goofy and loving side, never both at once. I probably would’ve thought it impossible, or at least super challenging. But tonight is proof enough it’s not hard at all. And I’m enjoying it thoroughly.

Instead of dancing for me, my little sub points to the lace at her hips, then down at the floor. Still smiling, I blink at the movement, then glance up at her beautiful face.

Her eyes are focused on the wall across the room behind me. When she repeats the movement—tap-tap on each hip with pink-painted pointer fingers, then those same fingers aiming at the ground in perfect sync with the music—I smirk, knowing exactly what I’m supposed to do if following her plan. Yet that darker part of me she purposely woke from hibernation refuses.

But not for long.

I enjoy watching her play out her role with robotic movements one last time before dutifully taking hold of her lacy thong. Just… instead of pulling them down her creamy legs, I fist them tight and suddenly snatch them from her body. Anticipating her jerk toward me, I grip her hips in both my big palms before she even moves an inch, the placement of my hands soothing the sting where the material tore free.

I lick my lips as I drag my eyes up from her bared pussy to her face, catching the sight of her bottom lip just as it pops free of her teeth.

Again, she shows incredible control of herself as she takes two steps back, out of my grasp and from between my legs, turns while keeping her head aligned with her body, then takes the three steps over to the padded table. The curves of her silhouette look extra sensual beneath the red bulb, and my nostrils flare as I watch her climb on top of the play table, then spin to lie down on her back. It’s not until her knees bend and rise at the exact same rate and the bottom of her shoes are flat on the table that I stand and saunter over to her.

I start at the side of the table, her body perpendicular like a buffet spread before me, and she keeps her eyes aimed at the ceiling even as I place my palm on her breast and squeeze. I lift a brow and start to move, dragging my hand down her stomach, letting it climb up the stretch of skin exposed of her thigh before reaching the elastic of her sock and across her bent knee, then down her shin as I make my way to the end of the table.

But as amazing as she’s been, portraying this character she was apparently born to play, I see my doll peeking through in this position, as her knees are clamped together, even as her feet are pressed into the table as wide as it allows.

And I don’t let her get away with it.

Now knowing she can tolerate and even enjoy a little degradation, I call her on her mistake. “What is this?” I ask with mock offense. “What kind of sex doll tries to hide the goods?” I take hold of her knees, gripping one in each hand, then jerk them apart. “Seems this birthday present forgot what she was made for.” Sliding my palms ever so slowly down the inside of her thighs, I tell her darkly, “The only thing she’s good for.”

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